


one to make your heart remember me

by dramaturgicallycorrect



Series: all my favorite conversations [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Soldier Liam, Soldier Louis, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i want to write you a song au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:16:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5379965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramaturgicallycorrect/pseuds/dramaturgicallycorrect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It’s an envelope from home, padded with something hard inside -- he’d only spent about an hour poking at it until he could sneak away to open it. He tears at the envelope, wiggling his fingers until the customs form covering the seam, until the flap gives way and a CD in a jewel case falls out. The CD has Harry’s messy writing on it, he’d recognize it anywhere -- “Merry Christmas 2009” at the top, subtitled “To Liam with Love” and the little heart he uses to sign his name on notes to Liam sometimes.</i><br/> </p>
<p>[Or Liam is an active duty Marine and Harry has written him a song.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	one to make your heart remember me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justaboat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justaboat/gifts).



> The beautiful wonderful Sharon [justaboat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/justaboat/pseuds/justaboat) wrote me [a soldier Liam Lirry](http://loueh.tumblr.com/post/128212057786/lirry-and-things-you-said-under-the-stars-and-in), which is one of my very favorite things we've ever spent hours talking about, and I'm just slowly trying to return the favor.
> 
> Tiny warning for some talk about Don't Ask Don't Tell.
> 
> This is part of a series of Christmas present fics (...loosely) based on songs from Made in the AM.

\--

By no means is Liam’s bed at camp actually comfortable, but it’s not the floor so he relishes it. He settles in his bunk and sinks into the mattress as much as he can. It’s never quiet in his barracks except tonight -- everyone’s in the mess getting shitfaced because it’s New Year’s Eve. Liam would be out there with them in any other circumstance, but he got something in the mail today and he’s desperate to see what it is.

It’s an envelope from home, padded with something hard inside -- he’d only spent about an hour poking at it until he could sneak away to open it. He tears at the envelope, wiggling his fingers under the customs form covering the seam, until the flap gives way and a CD in a jewel case falls out. The CD has Harry’s messy writing on it, he’d recognize it anywhere -- “Merry Christmas 2009” at the top, subtitled “To Liam with Love” and the little heart he uses to sign his name on notes to Liam.

Liam scrambles out of his bed to find the toughbook he and a couple of the others share when they need it, manages to unearth a severely tangled pair of headphones he doesn’t bother untangling, and starts up the CD.

He’s surprised but delighted it’s actually a video that queues up on the media player. It starts by panning around what looks like a Christmas party at his parents’ house. The stereo’s playing Elvis’ Christmas Album, which is the only thing his mom plays during the month of December.

“Helloooooo, Liam. Merry Christmas,” Harry’s disembodied voice says and Liam breathes out, long and calming. It’s just what he’s needed. He’s been wound too tight for weeks, unable to tell anyone what he’s been missing. Who he’s been missing.

Harry cuts to a close up slowly taking him down the dining room table covered in food -- his mom’s sausage balls, fudge squares, devilled eggs, and more.

“Harry Styles, you beautiful son of a bitch,” Liam mumbles, maybe a little irritated at how his mouth waters at the familiar sight.

“The only thing more delicious than your mom’s hors d'oeuvres is me,” he jokes. “But, uh. Don’t tell her I said that. She won’t see this. Shit.”

Harry takes him on a journey through his Christmas-decorated home, everything done up in twinkling lights and tinsel, told through little fifteen second snippets of life. It's comforting, familiar, breaking Liam's heart a little in a way he wasn't prepared for.

“Say hi to Liam,” Harry says, with the camera pointed at Nicola. She already looks a bit tipsy, a pair of reindeer antlers nestled lopsided in her hair.

“Hi to Liam,” she deadpans before giggling and taking a sip of wine. “Mmm. Yes, helloooo, baby brother! It’s Christmas. You know it’s Christmas. What am I saying? Harry, what do you want me to say?”

“Whatever you feel in your heart,” Harry prompts.

“Buhhhhhh,” she hedges, which is just beautiful. Just a wonderful declaration, straight from the heart.

“Just give up,” Liam tells the screen with a laugh and has to watch her struggle to find something nice to say for a few more seconds before it cuts to his more touchy-feely sister.

“Liam! Merry Christmas!” Ruth cheers. “I miss you, I love you! I hope you’re having fun! Well -- okay, not like, I don’t hope you’re having _fun_ , it’s the Marines, it’s probably very stressful, but I hope you’re doing well. And doing good. And that you get some time off for the holiday. And that you stop calling Harry every time you get some phone time! We miss you! Call mom, she’s going crazy, okay? I love you.”

He’s greeted by several childhood friends, a few neighbors, a handful of cousins, his grandparents, Andy, and it’s all wonderful. But none of it is Harry. He’s starting to get a little anxious -- it’d be just like Harry to film him a beautiful Christmas present and not even put himself in it.

"Hey, dumbass, hope you haven't gotten yourself killed yet," Niall says.

" _Niall_ ," Harry warns.

"What? I'm joking. Liam knows I'm joking." He squints into the camera. "You know I'm joking right?"

Liam laughs as Harry hisses, "Just wrap it up."

"All right, merry Christmas, ya filthy animal," he cheers, raising his glass. "And a happy new year." He winks and then cackles, loud and bright, at something off-screen, probably Harry's indignant face. Liam can picture it perfectly. "I love you, bro, be safe!"

His mom cries for a solid ninety seconds, most of her words too weepy to be heard, but his dad translates as he usually does, telling Liam how proud they are, how much they love him. He beams at the video so hard his cheeks start to hurt, but he doesn’t know how to stop it. He can’t think there’s anything left after that, he feels so loved, so warm. The screen goes black for a few seconds, like Harry knows he needed to decompress.

Then Harry finally shows up, cross-legged on top of their bed with a guitar in his lap. His hair's gotten longer, but Liam can barely tell from the way it's tied back by a scarf to keep it all from flopping into his face.

“Hiiii,” he says, smiling brightly at Liam through the camera, and Liam’s breath catches in his chest. The combination of his voice and his face, just his presence in their room, the home they have together, hits him all at once. It’s only been scratchy phone calls for months, not entirely conducive to maintaining a relationship.

He doesn’t get to dialogue with Harry, but he’s content to watch him meander through a story about how he finally managed to get Jimmy T to raise his hand to use the bathroom instead of just running for it when he’s _really gotta go_. Liam’s sure by the earnestness with which Harry tells the story, that this is a real victory for both him and Jimmy T, but he feels a little lost on the context. Harry forgets sometimes what he’s told and hasn’t told Liam.

He says it’s because he tells Liam everything, even when he isn’t there to hear it, just because he likes to think Liam can feel it. Liam doesn’t know if he can feel when Harry talks to him because he feels Harry in his heart all hours of the day. But he doesn’t argue the point.

“Ah, the guitar,” Harry says at one point, like he’s just remembered it and he hasn’t been cradling it for minutes. "Niall's been teaching me the guitar. I thought it'd be good, you know, for the kids. There's a lot of fascinating research in music-based early childhood education I’ve been reading lately. It’s actual science and research, I swear, it’s not just me singing for no reason anymore. I should record some of it for when you can't fall asleep."

He grins at the camera. Harry always makes jokes like that, like his slow voice could ever bore Liam, like he doesn’t know Liam could listen to him for hours straight without a single complaint.

"Anyway, this is a little rough because I'm still learning. But." He shrugs and makes a self-deprecating face at Liam before he starts slowly picking out a soft and simple melody.

_I want to write you a song, one as beautiful as you are sweet, with just a hint of pain for the feeling that I get when you are gone_ , it starts, and Liam is done for.

Harry breaks off at a misstep before the chorus, frowning adorably down at his left hand like it’s betrayed him. He resituates his hands, plucks experimentally few times before nodding to himself that he’s got it right. He throws a quick, sheepish smile up at the camera before launching back into the song with some _ooohs_.

_Everything I need I get from you,_ he continues, and Liam loves him so much.

Harry plays slowly through the rest of the song, sometimes jerky, sometimes fluidly, and every inch of it is perfect because it’s just for Liam. Harry looks proud when he plucks through the last notes of the song and turns up to the camera like he’s waiting for Liam’s approval.

“Marvelous,” Liam whispers, hoping Harry can feel when he’s talking to him.

“So, um. That’s the song, I guess. I hope you liked it. I love you, please be safe, merry Christmas,” Harry says, his eyes sparkling and damp in the soft light of the lamp by their bed. “Also I love you,” he adds and blows Liam a kiss before leaning up and turning the camera off.

Liam isn’t ready for it to be over. He scrolls back three minutes or so until Harry’s adjusting the guitar in his lap and clearing his throat to start singing.

He leans back and closes his eyes this time, certain he’s going to watch it at least a dozen more times and Harry wouldn’t mind if he didn’t watch this once.

He never regrets his decision to enlist, he wouldn’t take it back if given the chance. But then there are moments where he wishes he were sitting next to Harry, curled up beside him as he struggles to master the guitar. Whispering gentle encouragements in his ear and placing soft kisses into his hair. He could be right there with him, instead of halfway around the world. They could ring in the New Year together, kissing the taste of champagne out of each other’s mouths.

He can hear the catch in Harry’s voice at the end, can tell where he’s trying not to crack: _I want to write you a song, one to make your heart remember me. So any time I’m gone, you can listen to my voice and sing along._

It’s Liam’s favorite part, and this time it gets Liam too, his throat tightening and tears forming against his will.

“Hey, Payno!” a voice shouts in his ears and yanks his headphones from the jack in the computer.

Liam snaps his wet eyes open and scrambles to pause the video, but not before Harry’s voice echoes into the barracks, “I love you, please be safe, merry Christmas. Also I love you.”

Being jerked away from Harry so suddenly, violently, hurts like a gut shot. He was surrounding every inch of Liam, but then he’s suddenly left cold.

The video pauses on Harry’s face looking like he’s halfway to tears as he blows his kiss to Liam, but Liam isn't looking at it. He’s looking up at Louis Tomlinson, who is in turn looking down at the video. Fucking Tomlinson, who’s been a pain in the ass since basic, who can’t keep his hands to himself, who can’t mind his own business. He’s caught Liam about as red handed as he can get -- assuming nobody else has watched this video before it got to him.

Liam practically pleads looking up at him. _Don't ask don't tell don't ask don't tell._

"Is that your -- ?" he starts, and Liam’s about to tell him it’s none of his damn business, but Liam realizes he trails off. He's nosy, but he’s giving him an out. He's asking him to deny Harry. To call them just really close friends like he so often does. It would be easy. But there's no malice in his eyes, no judgment.

He watches Louis, unblinking for as long as he can manage, trying to find any hint of disgust or betrayal. He has to blink eventually, the tears at the corners of his eyes finally running. Louis licks his lips and waits. He doesn’t do a damn thing, for once in his life. He waits for Liam to make the choice for him.

"Boyfriend," Liam says carefully.

Louis nods, his eyes scanning the room like he's seen before. Looking for threats. Liam isn’t entirely sure what that means.

Liam wipes quickly at his face so it’s dry by the time Louis looks back at him, covers the action by pulling the headphones from his ears. Louis perches himself at the edge of Liam's bed, his back curved so his head doesn’t hit the bed above him. He looks back down at the image of Harry -- there’s not much point to closing it now.

"What's his name?" Louis says, his voice gentle in a way Liam’s never heard before. He doesn’t apologize for invading Liam’s space and outing him explicitly, but he can see it in the hesitance in Louis’ features.

"Harry."

“Miss him?”

“Yeah,” Liam says. It’s an understatement.

Louis laces his fingers together and rests them in his lap, looking down at them instead of at Liam. It does sort of make it easier to answer his questions when he doesn’t have to look him in the eye. "Do you want to tell me about him?"

Liam frowns at him. This is also Louis Tomlinson, who pretended like he didn’t get a little teary himself over a birthday card from his little sisters last week, who had Liam’s back with that RPG in February that could have cost him an arm or worse.

“Why?”

“We talked last week on Christmas about home. You told me you didn’t have anyone.”

“I said I didn’t have a girl,” Liam says. He’s never lied.

Louis nods in concession, chancing a peek over at him. “We’re in the weeds together, we’re partners. You got my back?”

“Always,” Liam answers promptly. That’s all they do, no matter what, they look out for their brothers. If they don’t stay 100%, they’ve failed.

“And I got yours. That extends beyond the job, Payne, you don’t have to hide shit from me,” Louis says fiercely. “You’re gonna get me back to my family, I’m gonna get you back to your boy.”

Liam can’t really believe it, but he doesn’t have a reason not to. He knows what it would mean for someone to know all of who he is, since Harry’s too big a part of him to ignore.

This is what Harry wanted for him, an ally. They’d never fought about keeping quiet about Harry, but they’d been close a few times. Liam had never been willing to risk being exposed, least of all from Louis, who didn’t seem to have a concept of boundaries, privacy, or respect. Liam supposes he’s been wrong before.

“He’s getting a degree to teach elementary school,” Liam starts. “He writes songs for his kids. Silly little things, about sloths who like to eat bananas, but all the bananas are always taken by these really fast monkeys. It’s a big hit.”

“I’m sure,” Louis allows.

“It is,” Liam insists. He keeps talking, spilling as much as he’s comfortable about Harry. Which turns out to be quite a lot, considering Harry’s one of his Top Three Favorite Subjects and he’s kept quiet about him since the day he dropped Liam off at basic.

He closes the toughbook eventually, unwilling to share that part of Harry with anyone else, that's just for him. It’s a two-part gift he’s received tonight, a safe place to talk about Harry, with Louis, and a piece of Harry to keep with him always -- a song to make his heart remember Harry, as if he could ever forget.

\----

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! If you need me, I am [here.](http://wickershire.tumblr.com/post/134804463997/title-one-to-make-your-heart-remember-me-rating)


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